


Light a Candle

by Sarahbob



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Candles, Combeferre is just starting his medical career, Enjolras is still a youngster, Friendship, Gen, Notre Dame - Freeform, Paris - Freeform, praying, reflecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2140116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahbob/pseuds/Sarahbob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He did not pray often, but when he did, he prayed for his friend. He prayed for his health, his freedom and his chances. Combeferre visits the Notre Dame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light a Candle

**Author's Note:**

> I just returned from my holiday and I went to Paris for a week. It was there that I came up with this little one-shot. Combeferre is around eighteen/nineteen years old and Enjolras fourteen/fifteen.

It was already late in the afternoon when a tired medical student stepped outside his crooked apartment building and closed the wooden door behind him. The bright Parisian sun greeted him and the young man stood still for a while to let the summer rays warm his skin. Then he took a deep breath and continued his way down the cobblestone road.

Today had been a difficult day for the young man. He had started his internship at Hôpital Necker a couple of months ago and even though he was grateful for working there, the many losses he was forced to face were starting to weigh heavily on his heart. The student that died that morning was only a few years younger than himself and he had been suffering for nearly a week. One might say that it was probably for the best that the Lord had decided to take him. But the loss had hit the young medical student in a way none of the previous others had. The teenager had reminded him of his dearest friend. His death had hit close to home.

He shoved his hands deep inside his pockets and walked along the Rue des Grands Augustins towards La Seine. He kept his head down, staring at his feet as they carried him further, step by step. On days like these, his usual open and approachable posture made way for a more closed and introverted one. He didn't want to talk to people, he didn't want to smile and he didn't want to pretend all was well. He just wanted to get to his destination as fast as he could. He only stopped once to press a couple of coins in the trembling hand of a young mother holding her infant child.

After his shift at the hospital was done, he had returned home immediately in the hope of meeting his roommate to unburden his heart, but his young friend wasn't in their apartment. Somehow, that had only made the medical student feel worse and so he decided to go to the place that was always there to give him comfort when others couldn't.

It wasn't a long walk from his apartment to La Seine. When he arrived at the end of the street and around the corner, a small smile tugged at his lips. He loved this little walk. Despite the severe poverty and misery that he passed, there was so much beauty to be found. The way the river sparkled in the sun, the way the wind made the green leaves of the trees rattle. The way the few terraces were filled with people enjoying their day off. The way the glorious towers of the Notre Dame stood proud and tall…

Of course, it hurt his heart terribly to see the poor souls saunter around the streets the closer he got to Saint-Michel, but the young medical student had learned to draw strength from this particular route he made. The beauty he found there soothed his heart and allowed him to feel happy while the poverty forced him to face all the things wrong in the world and made him determined to make a change.

He politely shook his head when a merchant approached him with a well-practiced talk about some new discovery and crossed the Pont Saint-Michel to the other side of the river, where it was significantly less crowded. That wasn't a big surprise, since the Prefect of Police was situated there and they weren't always as honest and just as one hoped they would be. His younger roommate usually had a mouthful about them and the medical student was sure there would come a time when he would actually protest against the police force.

As he walked past the impressive building, his mind once again brought him back to the teenager that died on his watch that morning. He'd been a rebel, he had gone against a police command and got severely hurt when he'd tried to free a prisoner. No one at the hospital knew exactly what had happened, because different parties told contradicting stories, but the medical student was sure that the awful wounds the boy had suffered were by no means accidental.

His heart twisted painfully when the face of his patient swam across his vision. The boy reminded him of his roommate so much, it had scared him. He didn't know why; his patient held no physical resemblance to his young friend whatsoever. But there was something else. It was the story the patient's friend had told him. It was his apparently fiery nature, his passion, his conviction that things needed to change, his determination to fight oppression and his obsession with making a change. Admirable characterizations, all of them. But dangerous too. And the medical student was terrified that his young friend, who was already rebellious and reckless at the age of fourteen, would end up just like the boy that had died that morning.

He briefly closed his eyes to force the sudden wave of emotion down and then continued his way down the Quai du Marché Neuf until he finally arrived at the square in front of the grand cathedral. Even though he had heard many say that they found the building intimidating, the medical student had always thought it was beautiful and comforting. Even the depiction of Judgment Day above the entrance didn't fill him with dread. Instead, it filled him with admiration. Admiration for the artist who once sculpted the figures out of stone.

He took a minute to look at the impressive archway and studied the detailed faces of the twelve Apostles. Then he walked through the open doors and allowed the somewhat oppressive atmosphere to consume him. He took in the typical scent of the cathedral, the murmured singing of the choir, the soft whimpering of praying souls, the beautiful stained glass windows and the light that fell through them. Instantly, his eyes filled with tears.

He had once tried to explain to his young friend why this church had such a strong effect on him, but he couldn't. He didn't even really know himself. He had never seen himself as a religious person in the general sense of the word, even though he had been raised a catholic. It wasn't that he didn't believe in God, because he did. It was just that he didn't believe in the ways of the Church. He didn't attend the mass, he didn't pray every day, and he opposed the opulence the Church enjoyed while so many perished in poverty.

And yet, he was always drawn to this cathedral in particular. No other religious building had ever succeeded in moving him in the way La Notre Dame did. Every time he walked in there, his heart felt heavy and light at the same time. It touched him deeply, cut into his very core. Somehow, the cathedral made his hope for a better world flourish. His thoughts were much clearer in here. He knew what he wanted, he knew what he loved and who he was meant to be. The feeling he got when he visited the church was a comfort to him. A comfort that was always there, no matter how dark things got.

He took a shuddering breath and took one of the candles stalled out in front of him. Quietly, he walked towards his favorite chapel and lighted the candle with one of the burning ones. He held it with both his hands and kneeled down on one of the praying benches. His thoughts went back to the boy that had died that day and to his family. Then he thought of his parents and his little sister, hoping they were doing well. Finally, his thoughts focused on his roommate, his best friend. The young boy he had taken in a year ago and with whom he had gone through so much already.

He did not pray often, but he did pray for him. He prayed for his health, his freedom and his chances. He gave thanks for their friendship, their luck and their happiness. And lastly, he asked a question. The same question he asked every time he came in here. The last question he asked before placing the candle on the standard

_Please, will You keep him safe?_

* * *

 

It wasn't hard to lose track of time when you were inside the cathedral. The medical student knew he had been sitting on one of the benches for quite some time, because the light that shone through the stained glass windows had changed a few times already.

He was only brought out of his ponderings when he felt a small hand on his shoulder.

Looking up, his eyes locked with the blue ones of his best friend and he smiled. The younger boy smiled back and sat down next to him.

"I thought I might find you here," his friend whispered quietly. "Are you quite alright?"

The medical student's smile broadened and he closed his eyes. He blew out a deep breath and briefly took hold of his friend's hand, squeezing it. "I am," he answered just as quietly.

The boy nodded and glanced around the incredible building. He had never shared the feeling of his older friend. He had never liked churches and he hardly ever came there. He shifted a few times and nervously jiggled his leg up and down until the medical student placed a hand on his knee, stilling him.

"Be quiet and sit with me for a bit, is that alright?"

The boy swallowed and nodded again, casting his eyes down and fumbling with his fingers. He managed to stay still for another fifteen minutes before getting restless again.

"S-Shall we go now?" he asked hesitantly after a few more minutes. "Or do you need some more time?"

The medical student could hear the hope in his young friend's voice and smiled to himself. No matter how much comfort he could draw from being inside this church, it was nothing compared to the comfort he could draw from his best friend. He was ready to go.

"We can go," he replied silently, placing a hand on his roommate's back.

As they walked down the aisle and towards the exit, the medical student felt significantly better. His heart was still heavy, but his spirits had lifted.

It wouldn't be long until he'd find himself lighting candles in the cathedral again. It wouldn't be long until he'd realize that the question he kept asking would never hear a positive answer. But for now, he felt better. For now, it was enough. For now, he was happy.

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. Reviews are appreciated :) 
> 
> I also have a Tumblr (Sarahbob24) Come and say hi, I'm always in for a chat!


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